


Another One in My Bed (Love's Realignment Remix)

by inksheddings



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth's waiting for her anger to kick in, for the inevitable sense of betrayal.  It's somewhere off to the side, in her peripheral vision, she's sure of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another One in My Bed (Love's Realignment Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aisle_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisle_one/gifts).
  * Inspired by [there are no stars aligned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/212755) by [aisle_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisle_one/pseuds/aisle_one). 



> I actually think this story is fairly full of schmoop, despite the infidelity tag. Um. It just worked out that way!
> 
> Thank you very much, aisle_one, for letting me loose in your stories and providing me with the inspiration for this small scene. I hope you enjoy it, just a little bit.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta, whymzycal, who always gives me amazingly good advice.
> 
> Part of the title was shamelessly stolen from lyrics to Maroon 5's "Wake Up Call."

** Another One in My Bed (Love's Realignment Remix) ******

Elizabeth has only had two sips of her coffee, but it's already gone cold. Or maybe she's been sitting here longer than she thinks. Either way, Peter's confession is the only thing burning down her throat and into her stomach. 

Peter tells Elizabeth everything. Or thinks he does. Actually, he tells her more than that, because even though he doesn't tell her how it must have felt to kiss Neal, to hold him the way he's only held her for all these years, she knows how it's affected him. Elizabeth can see it in how difficult it is for Peter to keep eye contact (though he does and never wavers, not once). She sees it in the tense set of his shoulders and the way his hands are clenched into fists on the dining room table. 

Elizabeth's waiting for her anger to kick in, for the inevitable sense of betrayal. It's somewhere off to the side, in her peripheral vision, she's sure of it. It's just biding its time until she knows everything she possibly can about what she and Peter have to face. 

"Does Neal know you're telling me?" Elizabeth asks. Her hands are wrapped around her coffee cup so tightly she's surprised it hasn't shattered into pieces all over her, the table, and Peter.

Peter reaches for her, but then stops abruptly and puts his hands in his lap. "He told me I shouldn't tell you. Says he's not a threat to you – to us - so I shouldn't tell you."

So Peter, himself, isn't sure if Neal is a threat or not. Because Peter tells her everything that worries him, whether work-related or them-related or anything-related. It's not his words that Elizabeth finds herself concerned with, but that he reached for her and, instead of touching – instead of taking – he put his hands in his lap.

The anger finally moves out in front and smacks Elizabeth straight in the middle of her forehead, where a headache is forming fast. She'd rather it smacked Peter. 

"But how could I not tell you?" Peter continues. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I was so angry with Neal, I wanted to throttle him for being so stupid, and I actually did punch him. I guess, all that emotion just got twisted around and—"

Elizabeth needs to let go of her cup before she throws it.

"Aw, hell, El. I'm just so damn sorry." He makes to reach for her again, allows his hand to get closer this attempt, but it still falls short and onto the table top.

Elizabeth's fingers ache when she finally releases her grip on the cup, and she wonders if she should ask Peter to rub them until the blood starts flowing properly again, or if she should just let them tingle and go numb. Neither, probably. 

She stands up, walks behind Peter, and places her hands on his shoulders. She leans down and whispers in his ear. "I love you. I'm angry and hurt and I almost wish I was the one who carried a gun, though I don't know which one of you two I'd use it on first. But I love you."

Peter tilts his head to look up at her, and there's so much hope and fear clearly warring for prominence across his face. But there's only one thing Elizabeth needs to know.

"What do you want, Peter?"

She knows what she wants, what she'll always want and fight for, and she would have sworn up and down just an hour ago that she knows what her husband wants, too.

Peter can't stand up smoothly, not with Elizabeth so close behind his chair, and she's not feeling charitable enough to move out of his way. So he stays seated but keeps that difficult eye contact, even at an amazingly awkward angle. "I want you, Elizabeth. You."

And she believes him, she really does. But ...

"And Neal?"

She leaves the question vague. Peter can fill in the blanks – _Do you want Neal, too? What does Neal want?_

Peter opens his mouth, as if he knows exactly what he means to say, but he doesn't say a thing. Not one word. But his eyes close, slowly, and that's when Elizabeth's anger takes a step back and sadness takes over. Sadness for herself, sadness for Peter, and sadness for Neal. Neal does not have someone who loves him enough to lay their heart open for him the way Peter does for her, no matter how much it hurts, no matter what possible damage it might cause. Except ...

Looking at Peter now – his eyes closed but his warm hand finally touching one of her own – Elizabeth thinks that maybe Neal does have someone who loves him like that, or could love him, after all. 

Elizabeth pulls Peter out of his chair and hugs him close, and she feels the tension slowly ease out of his body. She can't say the same, unfortunately, because she's still tightly wound with the uncertainty of what she's about to tell her husband to do. She's wishing she'd had two sips of wine, rather than coffee, though two whole bottles wouldn't make this any easier.

"Well, to start," Elizabeth says, holding Peter just that much closer, "I think Neal might want a cup of coffee."

*****

Peter tells her about Starbucks, about "running into" Neal there this morning, and how he'd come to regret the extra caffeine when it disagreed with his stomach. 

"How about the company? Anything regrettable about that?" Elizabeth asks. Her words aren't meant as a jibe, or at least she doesn't think so, but they certainly come off that way. The look on Peter's face is definitely something she regrets, though she refuses to take the blame for emotions – subconcious or otherwise – that she's entitled to, under the circumstances.

Peter clears his throat and, unsurprisingly, answers without a hint of defensiveness. "We read the paper." 

Elizabeth takes a step closer and smiles. Peter knows all her smiles, and she knows he'll recoginze this one as the tentative acceptance it represents. As he smiles back at her, the sharpness of the previous moment softens. 

"And what was the news of the day?" Elizabeth asks. She cradles Peter's face in her hands. Elizabeth is filled with all sorts of emotions for Peter, after all, every one of them rooted in love.

Peter leans his forehead against hers and seems to breathe her in as he wraps his arms around her waist. "Peace," he says.

And that, Elizabeth thinks, is as a good start as any. 

**end**


End file.
